I got into Boston after driving around the cape earlier that afternoon to meet my friend Sarah, whom I met in 2011 when we shared a long table with other interns in Crispin’s kitchen. She had just gotten a new job and had the opportunity to move back to her home state a day or two ago after a couple years working in Detroit.
We chatted about life after Hell (the internship), laughed about the absurdity of life during Hell (eating so much free mac and cheese for lunch) and shortly after, I got to meet her copywriting partner, Latasha, a Virginia native, and we talked about food some more.
I said NYC doesn’t understand Tex-Mex, Sarah added that she avoided clam chowder in Michigan and Latasha brought up scrapple, something I didn’t understand and would’ve avoided, but she assured me it was great and that I’d have to keep an eye out for it in Virginia.
A little hungry after scrapple talk, we wanted something that was quintessential Boston since they were somewhat fresh from Detroit and I was a tourist.
Unfortunately since it was Independence Day Eve, all the Bostonians left, leaving us with other tourists looking for quintessential Boston foods too.
We walked around and struck out for a while, until we ended up at The Daily Catch and shared a long table with a family who had been going there for a very long time. Long enough that while waiting for a table, they spoke directly to the cook to get their regular cherry clams ready.
The three of us ordered the quintessentially-Bostonian fried calamari, stuffed clams, and seafood pasta. And there Sarah and I were, sharing yet another long table in another kitchen eating noodles. Just like old times.